


Twilight for Those of Us Left

by romanticalgirl



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 23:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Bucky's still frozen, and Steve has to find a way to live with his life. But everything always comes back to Bucky, no matter what else there is in the world.





	Twilight for Those of Us Left

**Author's Note:**

> Extra special thanks to [maurheti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maurheti/pseuds/maurheti) for being an amazing beta as always.
> 
> Title from Jason Isbell's song "Sunstroke"

Everyone thinks Steve should enjoy his birthday, but it’s difficult given that he and his band of outlaws are on the coast of Africa fighting off a band of pirates. Actual pirates -- peglegs, parrots, and all -- that have Hydra-level weapons; Bucky’s still in cryo; and he has a _musket_ hole in his thigh, three broken ribs from a fucking cannonball someone fucking _threw_ at him, and a deep gash in his biceps from a fucking cutlass.

Cake is _not_ going to make up for this.

He ends up in the medical suite with a few more wounds and Sam glaring at him in Bucky’s stead. He knows he’s not even getting cake until Sam lets him know exactly how stupid and reckless Steve is, how much Sam would kick his ass if he could, and exactly how much Bucky’s going to kick his ass when he gets out of cryo.

Steve ends the rant with the same argument he always uses because it’s the one Sam can’t beat. “You’re assuming that he’s getting out of cryo. And that he wants to.”

Steve has done his damnedest to not be hurt and bitter, but as the days and months drag on and there’s no progress and no change, he’s lost his hope, his belief. He knows he has friends and he’s not alone, but the fact that he can see Bucky and _know_ that he isn’t enough overshadows everything else. He understands Bucky’s reasons. He knows he’s being selfish. He’s never not been selfish when it came to Bucky.

He makes everyone else be seen to first and goes into the cryo room and sits, letting his ribs start knitting back together. He doesn’t come much anymore. He ends up vomiting after, every time, because he’s hurt and angry and Bucky’s at peace. Bucky deserves peace. But Bucky, who had always protected Steve, even after he became Captain America, doesn’t want the job anymore.

And the only reason Steve can think of is that Steve let him fall. Steve’s the reason he became the Winter Soldier. The reason the words are in his head in the first place.

Not for the first time, Steve wonders if Bucky wishes he’d never stepped into that damn alley in 1926.

“You’re thinkin’ so damn loud they can hear you back in New York.”

“Well, Tony’ll have more reason to hate me then.”

Sam sighs and sits down. “When are you going to stop blaming yourself for everything, huh? Ain’t no one here that blames you. We all _agree_ with you.”

“Tony blames me.”

“Yeah, well Tony blames me for Rhodey, so he’s not always right.”

“Don’t tell him that.”

“I would _love_ to tell him that.” Sam reaches over and claps his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Stop thinking. Go see the doc so she can sigh at you.”

“I’m thinking about leaving Wakanda.”

“What?” Sam stops halfway to standing. “For good?”

Steve shrugs. “Sitting around here isn’t doing anyone any good.”

“Being in prison isn’t going to do you any good either. Because remember? International fugitive.”

“I can’t wait around for him.” Steve looks up at Bucky in the chamber. “He doesn’t want me to, and if I’ve lost him or I’m going to, I might as well get used to not having him here again.”

“Did the serum make your fucking martyr complex worse? Or did it give it to you at no additional cost?”

“It’s not martyrdom if I’m right.” 

“He wakes up and you’re gone, he’s gonna be pissed.”

Steve shakes his head. “No. He’s not.” He gets up and goes toward the medical suite, thinking that making his decision has changed things, but he bolts for the bathroom as soon as he’s through the door. Bucky’s calm visage swims in his mind as he dry heaves, a trickle of bile the most he manages since he doesn’t have anything in his stomach. Tears sting his eyes from the action and his ribs feel like he’s undone any healing he might have managed.

**

When he goes back to his place after an exam and admonishment from the doctor, everyone is gathered in his living room. There’s cake and ice cream and presents, and Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles. “You could have waited until I showered.”

“All you have to do is be the one to cut the cake. The rest of us will eat it while you clean up.”

“Save me a piece at least.” He takes the knife from Scott and cuts through the layers, scraping the frosting off with his finger when he’s done and sucking it off on his way to the bathroom.

He strips off his uniform, all the red, white, and blue now covered in black and tosses it aside. He turns the shower on as hot as it will go and just stands under the spray, his arms braced on the wall in front of him. He lets the water pound down on his head and neck, running down his hair and beard, and it’s only the fact that he has people waiting that he turns the water off as soon as he does.

Drying off, he dresses in jeans and a t-shirt before opening the bedroom door. Natasha’s standing there, arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her face. “Getting sloppy, Rogers.”

“If you were an enemy and got this far into Wakanda, I’m pretty sure you’d manage to kill me regardless.”

She shrugs. “Happy birthday.”

“It’s a birthday, anyway. Did you have cake?”

“There was cake?” Her eyebrow is a smooth arch and Steve narrows his eyes then raises his voice. 

 

“There’d better still be cake.”

“We thought we’d eat it all and help you keep your girlish figure,” Clint calls back. 

Steve sighs and puts his hands on Natasha’s shoulders, turning her around. She smiles, though Steve thinks it’s more of a smirk. He squeezes lightly as he guides her down the hall. “Did you bring me a present?”

“My presence isn’t enough?”

“Oh, I’m not dumb enough to answer that.”

“Smart man. All evidence to the contrary.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me on my birthday?”

“I’m Russian. I don’t believe in ridiculous American expressions of emotion.”

He gives her a small push into the living room and she sits between Clint and Sam. Steve settles on the chair someone’s pulled in front of the presents, and Wanda hands him a large piece of cake.

Steve eats, letting the familiar banter wash over him. It’s nice to hear it. He knows this is hard on them, especially Scott and Clint. He hates that they’re trapped here because of him. He’s beginning to think loyalty to him is a curse rather than any kind of blessing.

Sam pushes a present toward him and knocks Steve out of his thoughts. “C’mon, Cap.”

Steve takes it and opens it. They’re all ridiculous gag gifts that make him smile. The last is from Sam. There’s a box with Sam’s mom’s homemade molasses cookies. Steve passes them around and puts a cookie in his mouth. Sam’s looking at him expectantly, and Steve frowns then looks down. There’s something else in the box. Steve pulls it out, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh my god, Sam. You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs. “Model it for us.”

Steve glares, but he shapes the hat in his hands and puts it on his head. Everyone cracks up, and Steve rolls his eyes. “Someone’s going to see me wearing this and think I’m being disrespectful.”

“But will they call you a whippersnapper?” Scott asks with a laugh.

Steve takes the cap off and Sam takes it from him. The _World War II Veteran_ is in gold, and there are stripes embroidered on it, along with a Purple Heart, the Medal of Honor, and the Distinguished Service Cross. Clint takes it from Sam and tilts it from side to side. “Kind of an overachiever, aren’t you?”

“I got most of them posthumously, so I don’t think they count.”

Sam shakes his head. “Riley’s counted.”

“And yours aren’t posthumous,” Wanda says softly. “You never technically died.”

Steve gives a half shrug. “Presumed posthumous.”

“Just put the damn hat back on,” Sam says as he grabs it from Clint and gives it back to Steve.

“And say thank you,” Natasha reminds him with a smirk.

“Shit.” Steve blushes and bends the bill of the cap again before putting it on. “Thank you, Sam.”

Natasha snaps a picture on her phone. “Very stylish.” Steve rolls his eyes and she grins at him, snapping another picture. “I have a present too, though it’s not technically for you. I still think you’ll like it.”

Steve leans back in his chair, fairly certain of what she’s going to say. In a lot of ways it makes his earlier decision easier. Sam glances at Steve, and something makes Steve thinks he knows what’s coming too.

“Everyone -- except for Steve and Barnes -- has the option of a full pardon. There are stipulations. For those of you who would be returning to the States, you’re officially retired unless you sign the Accords.”

Clint’s smile is as sharp as an arrow tip. “Or until they need us.Though I guess if they’ve got Thor and Banner on their side, we’re not very necessary.”

“There’s no protocol for if they need you. I’m not sure about Bruce. He doesn’t want the Big Guy at all, and so he’ll probably sign. Thor’s a god from another realm. Not sure what laws, if any, apply to him.”

“Why not Cap and Bucky?” Scott asks, even though they all know the answer, even if they pretend they don’t.

“Tony and Ross. Ross because he’s an asshole, and Tony because --”

“We know why Tony.” Steve exhales. “And if they don’t want to go back to the States?”

“Wanda’s not a U.S. Citizen, but the UN has agreed to abide by the same agreement. Given her powers, there’s a lot of concern, so they’d prefer she sign. They’d like for her and Vision to spearhead a battle zone recovery system. They’d be uniquely qualified to help with the trauma.”

Steve nods slowly and he can feel everyone watching him, waiting for a reaction. He rubs his chin, ruffling his beard. “I can’t tell any of you what to do,” he finally says. “You have lives out there, and opportunities. What you did for me, what you went through… I can’t ever repay that. I’m not even sure I’d know how. I don’t think there _is_ a way. You have families, jobs, purposes. I’m not going to tell you to sign the Accords. That has to be your choice. I will tell you that I’ll understand if you do. Don’t stay for me. Do what’s best for you.”

“The offers open,” Natasha says after a long silence. “And there’s no time limit on choosing it.”

Clint clears his throat and frowns. “Give us a minute, Nat?”

Her eyebrows lift, but she nods, getting up and moving out of the room. Clint waits until the door shuts behind her before he looks at Steve. Steve shakes his head before Clint says a word. “Go home, Clint. You too, Scott. Get back to your kids. You’ve already been gone too long.”

Clint stands, not looking away from Steve. Finally he nods. “You call me, Steve, and I’m with you. I’m not signing those damn things.” Steve stands up and shakes his hand, a rough exhale pulled out of him as Clint grabs him into a hug. “You need me, you _call_.”

Steve nods. “I will.”

Scott stands up and fidgets for a minute. “Everyone of you guys is really, really cool, but you’re _Captain America_. Which, I mean… Yeah. What he said.”

Steve hugs Scott, given that he hadn’t been sure he’d ever get his hand back the first time they shook hands. He claps him on the shoulder and pulls away, then looks over at Sam who’s frowning.

Wanda speaking pulls Steve’s gaze over to her. “I’d like to think.” Wanda looks slightly lost, and Steve goes over to her and runs his palm down her hair. 

“Like Natasha said, unlimited time offer.”

She nods, then follows Clint and Scott out, slipping past them as they stop to talk to Natasha. Steve settles back into his seat across from Sam. He reaches over for his fork and scrapes a glob of frosting from the side of the cake and eats it.

“You’re quiet.”

“Did you know this was coming?”

“No.” Steve sucks the fork clean and pokes his lower lip with the tines. “I’m not surprised, but I didn’t know.”

“You have any kind of plan?”

“Live, I guess.”

“Yeah, you’d better damn well live.”

“Not that kind of live. Not just that kind.” Steve sighs, blowing his breath upwards and fanning his bangs. “I haven’t really had the chance, you know? It’s been kind of busy.”

“Kind of. Yeah, that's _kind of_ an understatement.”

“Go home, Sam. You know your mom will kill you if she finds out you had a chance and didn’t take it.”

“My mom’s got nothin’ on my Nana. She’s who I’d be worried about.”

“Go home, Sam.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m not going to be waiting around for him. I’m going to get out there. I told you that. And I’m going to stay out of trouble. Try.”

“Try, huh?”

“I’m not promising more.”

“You’re gonna get mixed up in some damn guerilla war, aren’t you?”

Steve offers him a small smile. “Not on purpose?”

**

They all leave in the end. Wanda’s wary, but the guilt she’s carried around since Lagos might be lifted by helping with the recovery there and in other areas. She mentions possibly going back to Sokovia. With Pietro’s death there and so heavily weighing her down, Steve’s not sure she’s ready, but it’s not his job to tell her that.

Natasha gives him a look and holds his gaze for a long moment before following everyone else onto the plane. Steve stands back and watches it take off. They talked with T’Challa about their plans and he’s wished them all well. Steve stayed after to discuss Bucky, letting himself be reassured that he was in good hands, that T’Challa had no intention of letting anything happen to him.

Once everyone is gone, Steve goes to the cryo room. It’s night, so the lighting isdimmed to a soft glow coming from the machines. Bucky’s haloed in a frosty white from the ice. Steve goes over to the chamber and rests his head against it, their foreheads separated by the glass.

“Hey, Buck.” His mouth quirks up at one corner. “Just wanted to say goodbye. I’m not doing anyone any good hanging around. Probably getting in everyone’s way, if I’m honest. So I’m going to go find something, someplace I can do some good. Hopefully no one’ll catch me. I’m gonna do my best not to end up in prison. Which, in my defense, I haven’t yet. So.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes tight. “I’ll see you when you’re ready. When you wake up or… after, I guess. If you’re ever ready.”

His chest rises and falls heavily. Pulling back, he looks at Bucky, at the look of peace on his features. Steve steps back and sighs again, shaky and tight. “Okay. So.” The words cling to his throat like they don’t want to let go. “I’ll see ya, Buck.”

He walks out and forces himself through a series of deep breaths. He can get through this. He thinks he’s okay. Standing straight, he takes a few tentative steps and his stomach doesn’t rebel. He breathes a sigh of relief, but it hits him when he steps outside. He drops to his knees and braces his hands on the ground, his whole body wracked with a mixture of heaving and sobs.

He’s helped to his feet and led to his quarters, apologizing to the groundskeepers who wave off his words as usual, offering him bright, wide smiles in return. He thanks the man who helps him to his suite and watches him go before locking the door behind him. The remainder of the cake is on the counter; there’s not much left since he’s been swiping his fingers through the frosting. He looks at the nearly bare cake and grabs it, tossing it in the trash.

Steve’s tired, so he goes into the bedroom and collapses on the bed. His duffel bag is already packed and by the front door. Closing his eyes, he hopes for a dreamless sleep.

**

He wakes up shivering, his whole body shaking with it. He doesn’t remember what he’d dreamt, and he’s thankful his mind gives him that reprieve. Stripping down, he gets in the shower, turning the handle until the water’s as hot as it will go. He doesn’t feel rested. He's more tired than before his nap.

Once he feels warm again, his skin bright pink, he twists the dial all the way in the other direction for a quick shot of cold. He dries off and dresses, then heads to the door, shouldering his bag. He sends a message to T’Challa to let him know he’s ready so the mini-jet can be brought out for him.

He doesn’t look toward the medical wing, doesn’t look around. He knows he could end up on the Raft, but Wakanda is just as much a prison for him. It’s time to be Steve Rogers for the first time since he took the serum.

It’s past time.

**

He goes to Haiti first. Even though it’s been years since the earthquake, there’s still a lot of work to be done. He follows the path of natural disasters, showing up to help and staying as inconspicuous as he can. Whenever anyone gets too close, seems to interested, he moves on.

He realizes that if he’d been anything like how he is now health-wise, this is the kind of help he would have liked to provide when he was younger. Helping communities and individuals. There were people who helped him and his mother, him and Bucky, and Steve hates that he never got a chance to repay any of them.

He goes to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, to war memorials and concentration camps. He goes to Berchtesgaden and to Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest. He looks at faces of the Jews and Romani, the homosexuals and the infirm, the young and the old. He’ll never understand the need for power that’s strong enough to kill for. No matter who’s behind the bid for it. He knows the U.S. was complicit in those deaths. He’s read enough now and he’s not naive enough anymore to believe otherwise.

He sees the faces of German soldiers, and they’re all boys. Younger or the same age he and Bucky had been. Children fighting because they believed or were told it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t all that different. 

He knows the deaths that shouldn't happen are the reasons for the Accords, but Steve also knows that no one feels the grief, guilt, and loss as heavily as the Avengers do. Oversight won’t change that. It simply shifts blame. The Avengers are sent out like guard dogs while the government agencies deny it, point fingers, and in the end, lay it all back at the Avenger’s feet.

He helps after floods in China, Sri Lanka, and India. Helps after earthquakes in Jiuzhaigou and Lesbos. He’s there after a landslide in Bangladesh, and after wildfires in Portugal and Cape Storm. He cleans up and he builds, he plants crops even though the closest he ever got to farming was the windowsill version of a victory garden during the war.

Dirt darkens his fingernails. The new calluses on his hands that have nothing to do with the shield actually last from day to day as long as he keeps working. Most people don’t recognize him, or they just don’t expect to be building houses or planting fields alongside Captain America. A lot of the places aren’t by cities and the people are too busy with their everyday lives and dealing with the results of the disasters to worry about superheroes, and they’re not going to complain about an extra set of hands.

He texts Sam and Natasha and T’Challa when he has service, but that’s the only connection he has to the outside world from wherever he is at the moment, except for a daily check of the news to see if there’s somewhere new he needs to be. He doesn’t actually realize how much time has passed until he gets a text from Natasha asking if he’s going back to Wakanda for Christmas. She says she and Sam want to see him and it’s safe, neutral territory. He’s not sure he should, even though he wants to see them both.

Wakanda means Bucky, and Steve isn’t sure he’s strong enough for that.

Natasha and Sam don’t actually take no for an answer, trading off texting him until he gives in. Steve lets T’Challa know he’s coming, but he tells him that Natasha had already filled him in. Steve’s not surprised at all. He finishes helping the farmer whose fields they’re replanting before he flies back, feeling the ebb and flow of tension as he moves into the shroud of Wakandan air space.

One of T’Challa’s aides meets him and insists on carrying Steve’s bag back to his same suite. There’s a meal of simple Wakandan food waiting for him, and Steve’s thankful they’ve arranged to give him blander foods, no doubt with respect to the very basic diet he’s been living on.It’s probably not necessary, but he appreciates the gestures. He smiles at the extra loaf of local bread; apparently his fondness for it when he lived here didn’t go unnoticed and hasn’t been forgotten.

T’Challa sends his regards and apologizes for not being able to meet Steve until the next day. Steve showers and changes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before walking around the quiet suite. He picks up books he can’t focus on, finally admitting to himself that he’s stalling. There’s no way, no matter what the entertainment, he’s not going to see Bucky.

It’s late enough that no one’s in the medical wing save for one guard and the two people monitoring whomever else is in the rooms. Steve lets himself into the cryo room with a press of his hand against the sensor. Bucky looks exactly like Steve had left him, and he can’t help reaching up and tracing fingers along Bucky’s face. The ache hasn’t changed, and Steve exhales sharply.

“Apparently I haven’t changed either.” He laughs at himself, raking his fingers through his hair. “Still pretty pathetic when it comes to you.”

He rests his forehead on the glass for a minute then moves back to the bench across from the chamber. Tube. Coffin. He still doesn’t know what to call it. Leaning his head against the wall, he closes his eyes. The room is constructed to be restful, non-invasive, but to Steve it’s anything but.

Even so he manages to fall asleep. When he feels someone settle beside him, he doesn’t move. He regulates his breathing, but he can sense Natasha’s smirk. “Yeah, yeah.” He opens his eyes and turns his head. “Hi.”

She gives him a quicksilver grin and reaches out, tugging his beard. “Hey, handsome.”

He snorts. “You need to get out more.”

“I know you’re not that naive, Rogers. You know you look good. All rough and tumble, screw the image.”

“I was never the image.”

Her look turns serious. “I know that, Steve.”

“Good that someone does.” He shakes his head and rubs his face. “Sorry. I know people do. Hell, I’ve not been me for the last year.”

“No. You’ve _been_ you for the last year.” She raises an eyebrow, daring him to contradict her. She reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. “Come on.”

“I know what’s going to happen when I leave the room. Not exactly an incentive to go.”

“How do you think you’ll be if you stay in here?” She stands up and stares down at him. “C’mon. Sam’ll be here soon.”

He nods and stands, casting a look at Bucky. “They got one of the trigger words. There’s a good chance that if one of them doesn’t work the whole sequence doesn't work. He says he wants them all gone. Any areas of his brain they identify, whatever marks or words are in his brain. No matter how many there are. They identified a possibility of thirty, some connected. Some not.” He swallows hard. “At this rate, it’ll be at least another twenty-nine years before he’s out.”

“They got one. The rest will be easier.”

“They got rid of the first one before I left.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, and she’s too good at masking her reactions, but Steve can read her well enough to know she’s surprised, though he thinks it might be more at the fact that he’s telling her than at the news itself. “I got past it.”

“It was different, though, for you. Wasn’t it?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

He nods in return. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“T’Challa said he’d meet us for dinner in your suite.”

“Fifteen minutes.” She goes up on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek before leaving the room, the doors silent as they open for her. Steve exhales and glances at Bucky again. “I wish I knew what you meant when you said not to wait, what you were thinking.” He shakes his head and knows he won’t come back until they wake Bucky up. He’s not sure if that makes him brave, a realist, or a coward.

He guesses it’s probably the last option.

**

It’s actually nice to have people to talk to, rather than getting by on hand signals and mangling other languages. Laughing with his friends, cold beer, amazing food, and the loss of the thrum of constant wariness has Steve’s eyelids drooping far too quickly.

T’Challa excuses himself first, then the apples of Sam’s cheeks flush when, instead of accepting Steve’s spare bedroom, he says they have a room of their own. Steve raises an eyebrow and Sam turns even redder, visible even under his dark skin. Natasha rolls her eyes, grabs Sam’s hand, and and flips Steve off as she drags Sam out of the room.

Steve smiles as they leave even though it’s not the kind of that would ease any of their worries about him. He’s happy for them. For all of them. For Tony and Pepper when they’re together. For Wanda and Vision. It’s just clear to him that, his kiss with Sharon aside, Peggy was his one chance, and they’d never even gotten to dance.

He goes to his room and strips to his boxer briefs, crawling under the covers. He knows immediately that he’s gotten used to other accommodations because the bed’s too soft again. He’s tired enough that he knows he’ll fall asleep anyway, so he just lets himself sink down.

He jerks awake, covered in sweat. He rips the sheet in an effort to untangle himself from it. Stumbling out of the bed, he hurries to the bathroom as his chest heaves and bile rises in his throat. His dreams were vicious and dark, worse than ever.

He takes a scalding hot shower in an attempt to wash off the residual tremors left after his dreams. Night terrors would probably be a more appropriate description. He dresses and grabs his duffel bag. He doesn’t even glance at the medical building as he goes past it to the airfield. Even though it’s the middle of the night he does a quick flight check.The jet is completely refueled, and there’s enough to get him all the way to New York. The temptation to go, to give in, to surrender is stronger than he wants to admit to himself. At least then he’d be as trapped as Bucky.

But Bucky’s not trapped.

He has what he wants, and it doesn’t cost him anything. Not time. Not dreams. Not waiting.

Steve takes off. He thinks Sam and Natasha will understand, but even if they don’t, he can’t let that stop him. He goes to Sri Lanka and finds a village that’s still recovering from the landslide, helping rebuild houses. He moves from house to house, town to town without stopping. It’s another year and a half before he hears from Natasha.

“Need you to come in.”

“I have no idea what that means.” He’s stripped to the waist, his t-shirt wrapped around his head. His skin is darker, though it’s very obvious he’s the foreigner even after all this time. He steps away from the building he and a group of the men from the village have just finished. 

“Wakanda.”

“Why?”

“Wanda and Vision have figured out how to get the trigger words out. They need you here.”

Steve doesn’t speak for a long time, and his breathing’s ragged to his own ears. When he finally manages to speak, he doesn’t recognize his voice. “Why?”

It’s not often he feels like he surprises Natasha, but her silence makes him think that it’s possible that he has. “Why?”

“Why do you need me? Vision and Wanda are both strong enough to control him if it doesn't work.”

“He’ll need you.”

“No.” It’s both painful and surprising how true it feels. “I don’t think so.”

“He didn’t go back into cryo to hurt you,” she snaps.

“I’m not being petulant, Nat. Bucky deserves to make his own choices without me there as pressure, as a reminder. He deserves the right to decide who he is without thinking he needs to be the person he thinks I want him to be.”

“You spent years trying to find him.”

“To make sure he was okay. To keep him safe from Hydra. To try and ease my own guilt. If there’s one thing I’ve been learning it’s that nothing that’s been destroyed can ever be what it was before. All you can do is build something new. A lot of times what you used before isn’t any good anymore.”

Natasha is silent. He can’t actually hear her breathing, so he looks at his phone to make sure they’re still connected. Finally she speaks softly. “And when he asks?”

“Tell him it’s his choice, and if he wants to live a quiet life like he did in Budapest, then we’ll respect that, but he’ll have to stay in Wakanda and keep an extremely low profile.”

“No, Steve. When he asks about you.”

“You know how to find me. If you don’t know where I am exactly already. I’m not hiding from you or him.”

“I thought you’d given up on martyrdom.”

“I’m trying to give him what Hydra never did. He knew I was looking for him, and he didn’t want to be found. Maybe he still doesn’t.” 

She blows out a slow breath. “Okay.”

“Okay. But you think I’m being an idiot?”

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

“I’d never be as presumptuous as to think that.”

“And they say you’re not the smart one.”

Steve laughs as Natasha hangs up. He goes back to work, doing his best to put what she’d said out of his mind. He truly believes everything he told her. He’s had years to think about it since Bucky chose to go back into cryo.

He aches with the desire, the need, for Bucky to choose him, but Steve’s loved Bucky what seems like all of his life. He knows what Bucky is to him and what he’s always wanted Bucky to be. Bucky remembers Steve, remembers their friendship. Remembering it isn’t feeling it. And, like he’d told Natasha, it’s Bucky’s choice to act on what he remembers without Steve’s feelings getting in the way.

**

Steve goes back to the jet T’Challa’s given him, getting ready for his next journey. It’s been two months since he talked with Natasha, and no one’s come to find him, so he knows he’s made the right decision. 

At least until he climbs in the jet and Tony’s sitting there. “You’re a hard man to find, Cap. I mean, to anyone who isn’t me. But I am me, so. Doesn’t apply.”

“What are you doing here, Tony?”

“Just checking in. Guess without the whole costume and shield thing you don’t have to limit your good deeds to just America.”

“The government had naming rights, not me. And they didn’t intend for me to be anything more than a symbol.”

“You’re so goddamned self-righteous.” 

Steve sighs. Right back where they started from. “Why are you here, Tony?”

“Heard there was a Greek god in Mozambique. We have a Norse one, so couldn’t rule it out. Figured it’d be better for me to check it out before Ross got wind of it. He doesn’t like you very much.”

“ _You_ don’t like me very much.”

“True.” He looks around at T’Challa’s jet and Steve wonders how much snooping Tony did while he was waiting. “So, what _are_ you doing here? I figured you’d be shacked up with Barnes, living the life of platonic brotherhood, being two sides of the same tarnished coin.”

“I’m just helping rebuild the village. I’ll be here another month, then I’ll be gone. I’m not looking for trouble, and it’s not looking for me. Or it wasn’t until you showed up.”

“Where is your cyborg BFF anyway?”

Anger and annoyance are like a different kind of heat spreading over Steve’s skin. “Are you here to arrest me?”

“I’m trying to stay away from potential bad press now, actually. Well, mostly I’m trying to stay on Pepper’s good side. Her good graces. She only has good sides.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“A local news crew got a shot of you in the background of one of their reports. FRIDAY let me know, and I beat Ross and his goons to the punch. But enough people are going to figure it out and, after doing a little research, I figured you’d been doing this for a while, and you aren’t doing it for brownie points.”

Steve knows no matter what he says, he’s going to play into Tony’s hands. “There’s more than one way to save the world.”

“Ross is going to come for you. He’s got a good idea of what you’re doing. He’s going to know where to look now.”

Steve glances out the cockpit, looking around at the quiet village. “Are you warning me or stalling for time?”

“Go back to Wakanda. For a while at least.”

“I’d think you’d jump at the chance to bring me in.”

“I haven’t forgiven either of you.” Tony’s voice is flat and hard. “But… But if it had been Rhodey… well. Maybe I get it a little better.” He blows out a breath. “But you were gonna kill me.”

“I didn’t.”

“You could have. You were going to. It was a pretty near thing.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve got a few anger issues.”

“And don’t forget the annoying habit of thinking you’re always right.”

“I usually am.”

“Christ, Rogers. I'm pretty sure I’d hate you even if you hadn’t been Dad’s favorite son.”

The hint of a smile that had been threatening at Steve’s mouth disappears. “I’m sorry.”

“But at least I’d hate you for the right reasons.” Tony smirks and Steve isn’t sure if it’s directed at him or Tony himself. “And maybe you wouldn’t think he was the only thing worth fighting for.” Tony stands up and heads for the hatch before Steve can speak. “For once, just listen to me, okay? Go back to Wakanda.”

“If I do, do you promise not to let it go to your head?”

“Are you kidding?” Tony’s grin has a warm familiarity to it that makes Steve’s chest ache. “I’m taking out a full page goddamned ad in the Times announcing it.”

**

He gets clearance to enter Wakandan air space, passing through the thick mist and giving the call sign T’Challa had given him with his landing instructions. He knows there are guns trained on him and will be until he walks out of the mini-jet. Possibly longer. 

It’s late, so no one is actually there to greet him. He heads toward his quarters, stopping at the door where Natasha is leaning. “Did they call you or do you have a tracker embedded in my skin?”

“Why can’t the answer be both?”

“I guess I’m lucky you like me.”

“Have I ever said that?” Her brow furrows, but she’s smiling. “I’m positive I’ve never said that.” Steve shakes his head and holds his arms open. She winces. “I _know_ I’ve never said I like you enough to hug you when you look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Never mind, Rogers.” She moves closer and Steve envelops her in his arms, holding her tight against him. 

Steve inhales the clean scent of her. “Careful. I might think you missed me.”

“Never.”

He rests his forehead against hers. She exhales and Steve can almost taste her. He doesn’t love her, not in the way that makes him want to kiss her, not in the way he knows he should. She’s beautiful and sexy and, in her own way, the same sharp and determined woman Peggy was. But she’s also Natasha, which makes her something else altogether. Still, he’s missed human contact. Touch.

He pulls back and kisses her forehead. “I definitely missed you.”

She bats her eyes and speaks in an over the top southern accent. “Why Captain Rogers, I _do_ declare.”

“Not sure I can still claim that rank.”

“You earned it, shield or no shield.” She raises her eyebrow and waits until he sighs. 

“It worked? They’re gone?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Are you going to see him?”

“If he wants to see me.”

“Do you try to be this much of an idiot, or does it just come naturally?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Steve sucks in a deep breath at the low drawl of Bucky’s voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky standing several feet down the hall, wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a worn t-shirt. Steve can feel Bucky’s gaze on him and _that’s_ how he should feel about Natasha. Almost against his will, Steve raises his head and looks at Bucky. He looks good. He looks relaxed, rested, and calm. The same calm he’d had when he decided to go back into cryo.

“If you ask him, he’ll say he isn’t an idiot. Now if you ask _me_ , I’ll tell you the truth. It is one-hundred percent natural. Not hereditary, because Sarah Rogers was a saint.” He grins, but Steve can sense the wariness in it. “Hey there, Rogers.”

Steve nods, trying to remember how to breathe. “Buck.”

“You look tired.”

“Long day. You know. Built some houses, dealt with Tony. Flew back here.”

“Came back because of Tony, huh?”

The “and not me” is clear in the question, though it doesn’t actually feel like a question at all. Steve offers him a quirk of his lips. “Well, it was here or the Raft, and I’m not a fan of confined spaces.”

Natasha frowns. “Tony wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe not. But Ross would, and someone got video or photographic proof of where I was, what I was doing. Ross was apparently salivating.” Bucky frowns, and Steve can already hear his apology. Before he can actually say anything, Steve shakes his head sharply. “Don’t. I made my choice, Buck. I follow a kid from Brooklyn too.”

Bucky blows out a breath. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” He walks over to Steve and tugs his beard. “And maybe shave.”

“I like it.”

“That’s because you never could grow facial hair before the serum.”

“And Captain America had to have the clean-cut, boy next door image.” Natasha’s voice startles Steve. Seeing Bucky had made him forget she was there.

“I’m not him anymore.”

“I know.” She tugs his beard again, apparently deciding it’s the new thing to do. “I like the rugged look. Not so much the smell.”

“Trust me. He’s smelled worse.”

Steve shakes his head. “You two are the worst welcoming committee.”

“Hey, I gave you a hug.”

Steve hugs her again. “Goodnight, Nat.”

She kisses his cheek. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He glances at Bucky when she walks away. He’s still an arm’s length away and one of his eyebrows is cocked. Steve’s not sure which one of them moves but they’re suddenly just inches apart. “So, she gets a hug, huh? What about me?”

“I’m not sure we’re at hugging quite yet.”

“Where are we, then?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky shakes his head. “I think it should be up to both of us, don’t you?”

“No. I’ve known where I stand for decades. You’re the one who…”

“You talk too much.” Bucky grabs Steve by the shoulder and pulls him in. His hand settles between Steve’s shoulder blades, holding him close. Steve rests his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder, unable to stop himself from relaxing into Bucky’s embrace. Bucky’s fingers move up and wrap over Steve’s shoulder. He turns his head, and Steve can feel Bucky's breath fan against his hair.

“Buck,” Steve breathes, unable to keep silent. He does manage to suppress the low groan that threatens when Bucky’s thumb rubs the back of Steve’s neck. 

“You colossal idiot.” Bucky squeezes Steve’s shoulder again before sliding his hand down to the small of Steve’s back, their bodies flush.

Steve steps back, despite the urge to press closer. “I need a shower and a good night’s sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Bucky reaches out and touches Steve’s jaw, fingertips stroking from the back curve to his chin. “Missed your stupid face.”

Steve reaches up and rests his hand over Bucky’s. “Pretty sure you’ve got the monopoly on stupid.”

“You keep believing that if that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

“What makes you think I sleep?” Steve shakes his head, realizing how he sounds. “Forget I said that.”

“Yeah. Seems likely.” Bucky laughs, but it’s not exactly amused. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I am. I do. I was trying to be flippant.”

“You’re far too earnest to be that.”

“Or maybe people just don’t know how to read me.”

“Steven Rogers, I could lose all my memories and I’d still know how to read you. I have proof.” He reaches out again, touching Steve’s arm. “You can’t lie for shit, and you _definitely_ can’t lie to me.”

“I’m not the same Steve I was. You’re not the only one who’s changed.”

“I’m absolutely sure you haven’t changed fundamentally. You were frozen. You weren’t…”

Steve steps back, and it’s only because he actually tries that it’s not a flinch. “Goodnight, Buck.”

**

He doesn’t sleep. He stares out the window and listens to the rustle of the wind through the trees. This is exactly why he’d left. Bucky’s not Bucky, and Steve isn't Steve. Not the way they were in the Thirties and Forties.Whether or not he blames Steve for everything, the truth of it is that Bucky stayed in the war because of Steve, because of loyalty or ingrained protectiveness, or obligation. If he hadn’t, he would have gone home and had a life. Steve wouldn’t have him now, but knowing that he’d survived, _lived_ , would have been enough.

He goes for a run at three, admitting to himself that he’s not actually going to sleep. He gets back at six, covered in sweat from the humid air. He takes a hot shower, then dresses, settling into a chair to watch the sun rise before he opens his laptop and looks at countries and cities needing help. He knows he can’t leave with Ross looking for him, but he’ll eventually be able to go, and it seems like nature is always going to make Steve needed.

There’s a knock, and then Natasha opens the door. “You weren’t at breakfast.”

“Wasn’t hungry.”

“Regardless, growing boys need to eat their veggies.”

“I was right not to come back.”

Natasha frowns and walks into the room, shutting the door behind her. She sits across from him. “Why do you say that?”

“We’re not who we were. We can’t be. And I don’t think who we are now works. Not together.”

“Are you talking about a working relationship, a friendship, or a romantic relationship.”

“We can’t have a working relationship. Neither of us has a job.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No. I’m not Captain America anymore. I’m Steve Rogers. Just bigger.”

“You’ve always been Steve Rogers.”

“I haven’t been him since 1941.”

She leans back, her eyes sharp and knowing. “So what’s keeping you from renewing your friendship?”

“He sees me how I was, and I’m not that person anymore. Even if I didn’t go through what he went through.”

“So get to know each other again.”

“We can’t. Not if he refuses to see me now. And we’ve never had and are never going to have a romantic relationship. Bucky likes women. As you know. From personal experience.”

“You like women.”

Steve sighs, managing not to roll his eyes. “Don’t be pedantic. Bucky _exclusively_ likes women.”

“Maybe you don’t know him either. Does he know you like men? Like him?”

Shrugging, Steve leans back into his chair. “It’s a moot point.”

“You are a dramatic fatalist. I’d say you were Russian, but you’re not stoic enough.”

“Also Captain America can’t be a communist.”

“But he could be a card-carrying Socialist?”

“Roosevelt was a Socialist.”

Natasha laughs. “Always with the last word.”

“That’s because I’m always right.”

“Okay, Rogers. Whatever you say,” She grins as she gets up, going to the door and leaning against it once it’s open. “But I can promise you don’t know everything.”

**

It’s late afternoon when Bucky comes looking for him. Steve’s swapped his computer for a book, so caught up in Wakandan history that he doesn’t even notice until Bucky clears his throat. Steve looks and flushes. “Oh, hey, Buck.”

“Hey.” Bucky tilts the book so he can read the title. “ _The History of Wakandan Warfare_.”

“It’s interesting.”

Bucky sits, taking the same space Natasha had. “I’m sure.”

“What brings you here?”

Bucky smirks and clutches his hands to his chest. “I’m really feeling the love here.”

“That’s not how I meant it.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “Tired of doctors and shrinks and physical therapists. Though I’d come see your ugly mug.”

“Speaking of feeling the love.” Steve smirks and sets his book aside. “You’re doing okay?”

“Right as rain. Or, well, as right as a previously brainwashed Soviet assassin can be.”

“You’re really milking that for all it’s worth, huh?”

Bucky stares at him for a minute and then laughs, his eyes squinting and bright. “Christ, Stevie. You do still have a sense of humor.”

Steve’s mouth twitches with a smile and it aches a little how easy it is. “Do you remember it all?”

“How would I know that?” Bucky’s still smiling and Steve ducks his head, embarrassed.

“Sorry. Dumb question.”

Bucky lifts an eyebrow, obviously in agreement. After a few moments of silence, Bucky kicks Steve’s foot. “I’m sorry about last night. It was a shitty thing to say.”

“It’s true.”

“That it was shitty?”

“That what I’ve dealt with is nothing compared to you.”

“It’s not a competition. I was being an ass because I was pissed.” He stops and Steve meets his eyes. “It’s been months, Stevie. Where’ve you been?”

“You were living your life in Romania. You knew I was looking for you, but you weren’t looking for me or letting me find you. You didn’t want to get dragged into this.” Steve shrugs. “I didn’t want you to think anything was expected of you. That you had to pretend to be who you used to be because that’s what you thought I expected.”

“Still a martyr?”

“ _No!_ ” Steve snaps. “I’m trying to be a nice fucking person and let you make your own decisions without guilt or worry or expectation. Trying to not be the person needy enough to hold you back. Trying to give you a goddamn chance to choose your life.”

He gets out of the chair and storms over to the window. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stares out at nothing. He balls his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Bucky’s voice, when he speaks, is low and careful. “I didn’t remember anything until you. I wasn’t anything until you. You brought me back to life, Steve.”

“After I killed you.”

“Jesus.” Bucky gets up and moves behind Steve. He doesn’t say anything at all. Steve closes his eyes and waits. Finally he grabs Steve’s shoulders and turns him around “ _I_ chose not to go home. _I_ chose to go on that train. _I_ chose to pick up the shield. _Me_ , Steve. My choice. It’s not like any of us actually ever thought we’d get out of there alive.”

“I should have…”

“If it had been you.” Bucky’s voice is hard and commanding and, even though it takes him a minute to catch his breath, Steve knows better than to interrupt. “If you’d been in my place, would you blame me?”

“No, but…”

“No. No ‘buts’.”

“But you saved me a thousand times.” Steve continues, dropping his eyes. “I couldn’t even save you once. And then you saved me again when I fell from the helicarrier.”

“This isn’t a competition either!” Bucky snaps. “Besides, you fell because I fucking _shot_ you.”

“I've been a burden on you for your…” Steve stops abruptly when Bucky punches him hard on the shoulder. 

“I have been with you because I wanted to be. From the beginning to the goddamned end of the line. You want me to make my own choices, then you need to fucking _respect_ them.” Steve clenches his teeth, inhales sharply through his nose and lets it out. Bucky shakes his head to keep Steve silent. “I never thought of you like that -- as a job or a burden or an obligation. You saved my life a hundred times over.”

“Bullshit,” Steve growls. “Name one time. Name one fucking time I saved your life.”

“Other than the helicarrier?” Bucky’s smile fades. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known. And you look at me like I’m someone worth looking at, listening to. You always have. You think that didn’t keep me going when we were young? You kept me sane during the war. You were the reason I didn’t put a bullet in my head after Zola.”

“You…”

“No. You don’t get to say anything else. I _wanted_ you here. You’re my best friend, remember? Do you remember what that means?”

“Why did you even put up with me?”

“Oh my god.” Bucky throws his hands up. “Is your head made of fucking rocks? Quit telling me how to feel about you. I don’t give a shit what you think I should feel.”

“And you give a shit about how _I_ feel, Buck? We’re in Wakanda, the safest place on the entire planet, and you can’t just let them work on the triggers? You have to be fucking _frozen_?”

“I think, perhaps,” T’Challa’s smooth, even voice breaks the tension. “It would be best to discontinue this conversation for now.” He looks from Bucky to Steve. “With Mr. Stark and General Ross renewing their search for Steve as well as it being so long since you’ve seen each other, I fear emotions are running high.”

“Or he’s just being a stubborn ass,” Bucky sneers. “That hasn’t changed in the last hundred years.”

“It takes one to know one!”

“Enough.” T’Challa doesn’t raise his voice, but it fills the room. “Enough. Both of you are to stand down and join me for dinner. I know you’ve yet to eat today, Captain Rogers. I’ve no doubt remedying that will change the tone of this conversation.”

“You haven’t eaten? Are you --”

“Sergeant Barnes.” T’Challa’s voice is quieter than before, but it’s just as commanding. “Ms. Romanoff is waiting.”

**

Natasha’s expression is blank save for her one raised eyebrow and the twist of her lips. “Lover’s spat?”

Steve glares at her and sits down. Bucky does the same on the opposite side of the table, settling just out of Steve’s line of sight. T’Challa and Natasha start a conversation, completely ignoring Steve and Bucky. Steve focuses on his food, realizing how hungry he is as soon as the smell hits him. He eats, not paying any real attention to any of them, but he feels Bucky’s eyes on him and lifts his head. “What?”

“I remember having to force you to eat your share and not pass it all off to me.”

The warmth from Bucky remembering fades quickly. “You did the physical work. You needed the energy.”

“You were usually on the edge of dying.”

“Maybe you should have let me. Then none of this would have happened to you.”

“Oh my…” Bucky groans in frustration. “Being captured at Azzano and being experimented on had absolutely nothing to do with you.”

T’Challa sighs. “A peaceful dinner, gentlemen.”

They both shut up and keep eating. T’Challa and Natasha restart their conversation as if they hadn’t been interrupted. Steve stares down at his food, no longer hungry. He can feel Bucky’s eyes on him from time to time, but he doesn’t rise to the bait.

When dinner ends, they all move to T’Challa’s personal library. Steve and Bucky both take a drink at T’Challa’s insistence, informing them both that enjoying a good glass of whiskey has nothing to do with getting drunk in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.

They join the conversation though Bucky doesn’t say anything when T’Challa draws Steve out by asking where he’s been and what he’s been working on. Natasha snorts when he mentions blood drives. “You can’t donate blood.”

“No, but apparently I can be very convincing.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to snort, but he doesn’t say anything.

“The public service announcements were very effective,” T’Challa just nods. “Even with Ross attempting to stop them.”

“YouTubers seem to like me better than General Ross.”

“Shocking,” Natasha says dryly.

“Apparently I’m very likeable.”

She laughs this time, soft but genuine. “Pretty sure the comments spelled likeable as lickable and fuckable.”

Steve flushes. “Even I know better than to read the comments.”

“I had to add my two cents. Make sure they were getting it right.”

“How do you know if he’s fuckable?” Bucky’s voice is the low growl of the Winter Soldier, and Steve’s eyes widen at the sound. 

“Because I have eyes. And I didn’t say anything about that. I said with practice he might be kissable.”

Rather than reminding any of them that Natasha knows how fuckable _Bucky_ is, Steve speaks before Bucky can reply. “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.”

“Aw, Steve. You remember. You may make it as a spy yet.”

“You leave quite an impression.”

Natasha smiles. “He _said_ it wasn’t his first kiss since 1945, but I’m not sure I believed him.”

“If his kiss with Sharon was any indication, you shouldn’t have.”

Steve glares, ignoring the heat that rises in his cheeks. “Hey! You know what, I don’t like either of you.”

“I personally find it hard to believe.” T’Challa’s eyebrows are up and his smile is as appreciative as the look he gives Steve. “Given how he looks and who he is. Perhaps he just simply isn’t a good kisser.”

Steve isn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or offended. “Didn’t this all start with you saying nice things about me? How did we get to this?”

“Wouldn't want you to get a swelled head, buddy.”

Steve’s gaze whips over to Bucky. “You did not just say that.”

“Though it’d go okay with your beak of a nose.”

“I think you were nicer when you were trying to kill me.”

The room goes quiet, but Bucky breaks the tension with a smirk. “Yeah, well, you’re just as annoying, so I think I come out on top here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, James.” Natasha’s smile is sharp and Steve knows he’s going to regret whatever she is going to say. “Everyone knows you're on top.”

Steve flushes and stands. “Goodnight, Your Majesty. And the rest of you.”

**

He still can’t sleep. He actually tries, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling for hours. He finally gives up at dawn and suits up for another run. He doesn’t push himself as hard as he had the day before, but he’s still going fast enough that no one should be able to catch up with him other than T’Challa and Bucky, and when he hears the pursuing footsteps, he imagines the king is actually too busy to join him.

He slows enough so that Bucky doesn’t have to push hard to catch up, and it’s easy to fall in step together. They’re too much in tune with each other even after all these years not to find a matching rhythm.

They reach the thicket of trees that had been Steve’s halfway point the day before and both stop as if by unspoken agreement. Bucky leans back against one of the trees and exhales deeply even though his breathing is regular and easy.

“It was about you. But not the way you think.”

Steve isn’t sure he wants to be standing when he hears this, so he sits on the ground and pulls his knees to his chest. “How then?”

“When Zemo triggered me, I hurt your friends. Hurt you.”

“That wasn’t you.”

“It doesn’t matter that I didn’t want to do it. I couldn’t _help_ it,and I couldn’t live with that happening again. So I did it because of you, but also for everyone else. Even here everyone else would have been wary of me running around. And you’re an idiot.”

Steve doesn’t look at him, just talks to his knees. “I can go somewhere else if me being here bothers you.”

“You let me beat the shit out of you, Steve.” He can see the hard look Bucky gives him out of the corner of his eye. “You stopped defending yourself. I couldn’t risk you doing that again.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I _would_. You know that. I know you want to think I’m the same guy you knew in Brooklyn.”

“No. I know you’re not him.” Steve’s hands close into fists against his thighs. “You weren’t him when I found you in Anzanno. Probably not since you got your first kill. I know who you are, Bucky. Who you aren’t.”

Bucky exhales and tilts his head back, looking up at the dense cover of leaves. “You wouldn’t stop me, so I had to.”

Steve nods but doesn’t look up at him. “Everyone thinks I’m some paragon of virtue. They act like my hands aren’t dirty, like I haven’t killed. Even the rest of the team. I’ve killed people in front of them, and they still don’t see.”

“You’re a good man.”

Steve stands up quickly and shoves Bucky, sending him stumbling. “No. No I’m not. I’m petty and jealous and so fucking angry! Just ask Tony. Hell, Wanda and Sam and Clint and Scott were trapped on the Raft and then here because I asked them to stand with me. I tore them from their families and kept them hostage. _I_ did that.”

“Steve.”

“I’ve been doing penance, hoping the universe might forgive me for my fucking hubris because I can’t forgive myself. I won’t stop you, won’t fight you, because you have every right to lay everything Hydra did and made you do at my feet. You deserve the chance to put me in the ground since I couldn’t manage to do it permanently.”

“Christ, Steve. _It's not about you_.” Bucky swings at Steve’s face and he doesn’t have time to react or move, not that he would. He falls back. “It had nothing to do with you. I barely knew who I was by the time they found me, much less who you were. I was frozen and _dying_. You feel guilty? You feel bad? _I_ pulled the trigger, used the knife, snapped the necks. It’s my fucking trauma, not yours.”

Steve moves his jaw, feeling the burn of impact. He jerks a nod and runs his fingers through his hair. “I should head back. Finish my run.”

“Steve.” Bucky reaches out for him, but Steve jerks his arm away from his touch. 

“I’m sorry. Acting like this was my own to claim. Acting like I have… He died, right? Bucky? He died from the fall.”

“That’s not…”

“It is. It’s the truth. That’s what you’ve been trying to tell me all along, and I haven’t listened. I need to be right so badly that I didn’t hear a word you were saying.” He nods and exhales. The smile he gives Bucky hurts. “I’ll see you back at the palace.”

**

He stays in his room after that, only coming out for meals. Most of the time he eats alone, but he occasionally meets the others coming or going. He tries to stay out of T’Challa’s way, knowing how much the King has already extended to them in hospitality. 

He sees Bucky and Natasha together a lot, and it’s like a spear through his chest, but that isn’t about him either. Natasha and Bucky’s past is more recent and Steve wants Bucky to have a life. The life he deserved to have. The life he deserves now.

Steve gets back from his daily workout several weeks later, and Bucky’s sitting on the couch in Steve’s rooms. Steve hasn’t gotten much sleep and he hasn’t been hungry, so he knows he’s lost weight. If the look Bucky gives him when Steve walks in is any indication, he can see it too.

“You look like shit.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been avoiding us. Me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Okay. That’s enough.” Bucky gets up and walks up to Steve, staring him in the eye. Steve stares back. After a few minutes of silence, Bucky rolls his eyes and sticks out his hand. “James Barnes. Call me Bucky.”

“Bucky…”

Bucky grabs Steve's hand where it’s hanging by his side. “And you are?”

Steve inhales deeply then lets the breath out slowly. “Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m heading for dinner. Why don’t you join me?”

“Join you?” Steve is still staring. He has no idea what Bucky’s doing, what sort of game this might be.

“We can get to know each other. I’m fairly new around here. Thought I might get out and meet some new people.”

“This is…”

“What do you do for fun?”

“I don’t…”

“Excellent. We’ll do that after dinner.” Bucky wrinkles his nose and smiles slyly. “Though you might want to shower first. I’ll wait here.”

**

“So.” Bucky sits across from Steve. It’s late enough that no one is in the cafeteria the staff uses, so they have the room to themselves. “You never said what you do for fun.”

“I read. Run?”

Bucky lifts an eyebrow and waves a hand indicating Steve’s body. “Bet you run like someone’s chasing you to get to looking like you look.”

“Like I look.”

“All… Muscle-y.”

“Just good genes I guess.”

Bucky coughs to cover a laugh. “I’m sure.”

“Are you disparaging my genes?”

“Never. And?”

“And what?”

“What else? Besides running.”

Steve blows out a breath. “Buck, this is ridiculous.”

Bucky leans back against his chair. “You say we’re both different people. So we need to get to know each other.”

“Fine.” Steve throws up his hands. “What are your hobbies?”

“The internet. Music. Not running. Annoying my best friend.”

“Bet you’re good at that one.”

“An expert.”

“You must be proud.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It took a lot of practice to reach my level of skill.”

“I have a friend like that. Not sure I’d call us best friends anymore though.”

“You can’t just let a good friend go.” Bucky leans in and rests his elbows on the table. “Real friends are pretty precious.”

“He thinks I want something. Maybe I do. I don’t know. Maybe I’m fooling myself.” Steve bites his lower lip. “Because he’s changed. Not the guy I knew. And he thinks I can’t see that.”

“Maybe he’s scared. Maybe he’s just afraid to let you get close because he’s afraid who he is now isn’t someone you could feel about the way you used to.”

Steve knows Bucky means their friendship, but for a second, his heart jolts that he might mean something else. “There’s no way to know, because we both push each other away.”

“That sucks.”

Steve laughs, soft and sad. “We hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Long for him. I tried to give him space, so he could be who he wanted to be. Figure out who that was. Is.”

“Did you ask him if that’s what he wanted?”

“He was… Indisposed.”

“Steve.” Bucky reaches out and rests his fingertips against the back of Steve’s hand.

Steve gives up the pretense. “All I wanted was for you to be safe, to have a chance. None of it was about me. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true.” Steve pulls his hand free. “That’s why I wasn’t here, part of why I left. You think you have to be Bucky for me. I know… I think...I want Bucky to be inside you, part of you, but I know he’s not who you are. And you deserve to be who you are now.”

“What if I want my best friend here to help me figure out who that is?”

“Am I?”

Bucky’s brow furrows, and Steve can practically see him replaying the conversation to figure out what Steve means. “Are you what?”

“Your best friend. I was Bucky Barnes’s best friend. I just met you.”

“I remember. Being him.”

“But it’s not who you are anymore.” Steve knows he’s repeating himself, but he needs an actual answer for his own peace of mind. “Is it?”

Bucky tilts his head, looking like he’s puzzling something out. “Do you not what to be here, Stevie?”

“I don’t know what I wants.” He laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it. “No. That’s not true. I know what I want, but it isn’t what you want. So I’m not going to impose any of that on you.”

“But _do_ you want to be here?” Bucky exhales, obviously frustrated. “It’s a simple question, Steve.”

“I’m doing something good out there, so I don’t know that I can stay here. But I want… I would like to have you in my life.”

“I want that. You in my life. And everything else… Let me make my choices, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve exhales. “So we’re okay now?”

“Sure.” Bucky reaches across the table and steals a roll off Steve’s plate. “So tell me all about the good you’re doing.”

**

Natasha seems to disappear after that, which makes Steve suspect she was waiting for them to talk. It’s awkward still, but they’re both trying. It’s strange to _have_ to try when everything used to come so easy to them. But they were different people then who didn’t have to navigate around their histories, didn’t have what they used to know and who they used to be weighing them down.

Bucky’s sprawled on Steve’s couch, throwing grapes into the air and catching them in his mouth. Steve’s on the floor in front of the couch reading, occasionally tilting his head back and catching the grapes Bucky drops in his mouth.

“I thought you were kidding about reading being one of your hobbies.”

“Mm. We could go for a run if you want.”

“You’re the worst.”

“You’re a child.” 

Bucky flicks the back of Steve’s head with his finger. There’s quiet for a long time and then Bucky tugs at Steve’s hair. “What do you think of K’wabe?”

“The nurse?”

“Yeah.”

Steve puts his book face down on his leg and turns his head to look at Bucky. Bucky shifts nervously and he’s not quite meeting Steve’s gaze. “Are you thinking about asking her out?”

Steve bites his tongue as Bucky shrugs. Something tight twists in his chest, frustration and want coiled up inside him. It makes sense. Bucky’s personality has changed, the way he carries himself and the way he thinks and looks at the world. But some things don’t change. 

“She’s gorgeous.” Bucky grins, and Steve thinks about K’wabe and agrees. She is. “And nice. A guy could do a lot worse.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Steve picks up his book again, even though he knows there’s no way he can focus on it. “Should check with T’Challa first though. See if there’s a protocol or custom or something.”

Bucky sits up and twists around, shoving Steve’s shoulder with his foot. “We could find you a nice nurse. Double date.”

“I’m done with double dating. Have fun on your own.”

“But you’re lonely.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Bucky shoves him again. “When was your last date?”

“I’m not interested.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still pining over Peggy.”

Steve tosses his book aside and gets to his feet. “No. I’m not pining over anyone. I’m just not interested, and I’m tired of people trying to set me up because they think I can’t manage on my own.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Maybe I don’t want anyone. Maybe I _have_ someone.” Bucky looks stunned and it makes Steve even angrier. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not. I just didn’t know. I… Oh, fuck, Steve. Why did you let me take you away from her?”

“You didn’t take me away from anyone. They’re not interested, but it doesn’t change how I feel.”

“Is it Natasha?”

“Bucky. Don’t.” Steve rubs his forehead with his fingers. “Please.”

Bucky sits back and refuses to look away from Steve, eyes trained on him and watching closely. “Why won’t you talk to me about this?”

“ _Because they are not interested_. There’s nothing to talk about, nothing to do about it, okay?” Steve realizes how loud his voice is and takes a breath, dropping it back to normal. “Leave it alone.”

“Okay. Okay.” Bucky settles back, looking away. “I’m sorry. You just… You deserve to be happy too, Steve. More than anyone.”

“I’m not sure that's true. There are people who deserve it a whole lot more than I do.” Steve grabs his book, more to avoid looking at Bucky than anything else. He knows Bucky is frowning, annoyed and ready to argue more. Steve puts his bookmark in and sets the book on the coffee table. “You should talk to T’Challa tonight at dinner. Get started on your wooing.”

“Yeah.” Steve looks over at him, concerned by Bucky’s uncertain tone of voice. After a moment Bucky meets his eyes. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything. This friendship thing goes both ways.”

“I know that.” He smiles, but from Bucky’s doubtful look, he’s fairly sure Bucky doesn’t believe him. “I was going to go to the gym before dinner. Want to come? Build up your muscles to impress K’wabe.”

“I bet she likes her guys lean and wiry.” Bucky flexes his bicep. “We can’t all be Captain America.”

He can tell Bucky realizes he’s made a mistake as soon as he’s spoken. Steve just smiles tightly. “Including me.”

**

The gym is silent save for the sounds of the machines they’re using. He spots Bucky on the bench press, then they do sit-ups and push-ups side by side. Even though the trigger words are gone, Bucky’s still hesitant to spar with Steve, but he accepts Natasha’s invitation when she comes in, immediately raising her eyebrow at the quiet.

Steve moves to the heavy bag, focusing on his punches rather than letting himself watch them. He knows how beautiful they look together; the way they fight is like the swing dancing Bucky did before the war, as sensual as a tango. Steve remembers the nights Bucky brought girls back to their apartment, the way he moved with them when he thought Steve was asleep. It’s easy to picture him like that with K’wabe or Natasha.

He stops the bag’s movement, resting his head against the reinforced leather for a moment before straightening. He tells them he’ll see them at dinner and they both wave without missing a beat in their fight. Even with the slow progress he and Bucky are making toward getting to know each other, Steve wishes Tony had never found him, or that Ross had instead. Though he knows none of his friends would have left him on the Raft.

“Have you talked to him at all?”

He’s almost at the end of the hal when he hears Natasha’s voice. It surprises Steve, especially since she and Bucky had been sparring just moments before. He expects her to be on the phone, but when Bucky answers, Steve forgets the thought of continuing the walk back to his room and instead ducks into one of the corridors branching off the main one.

“No. I talked to a brick wall. No. A brick wall would have been more responsive.”

“He’s protecting himself.”

“I think he’s made it clear that he doesn’t protect himself worth a damn from me.”

“It’s not just you. It’s everything. He woke up and was almost immediately fighting aliens, trying to form a team with people he didn’t know. He’d just found out that almost everyone he ever knew was dead, about what was, to him, a few weeks after he’d watched his best friend die. After he thought _he’d_ died. He went from the Howling Commandos to us and, while we managed to work as a team, we’ve never actually _been_ one.”

Bucky sighs, and Steve wishes he’d kept walking. He’s so fucking tired of everything hurting, seeing his life laid out so bare and pathetic even if it is the truth, because in the end nothing he’d done had made any difference. Hydra still exists, Nazis seem to have found new fertile ground in the U.S., and all he’s done is cause worry for the people who have tried to be his friends.

He’s not Red Skull, but Erskine’s formula has failed just as completely.

He turns down the corridor he’s in, knowing he can’t hear anymore. He’s shaking by the time he gets to his room, even when he stands under the scorching shower spray. His stomach is churning so he sends a message to T’Challa that he won’t be able to make dinner.

He knows he won’t get away with it, so he’s not surprised when Natasha shows up, taking his book out of his hands and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He starts before she can. “Do all of you think I’m that pathetic?”

“No one thinks that.”

“I was sick and small. I was never stupid.” He laughs, and it’s as broken as he feels. “He was the Winter Soldier. You were tortured by the Red Room. Tony was held prisoner. I was frozen. That’s nothing.”

“You lost everything.”

“So did Bucky, so did you.” Steve frowns down at his book. “He’s found his way. I think it’s best if I go.”

“Best for who?”

“Me. Him. You. Everyone. He wants to date. Hell, I think he’s half in love with you. He deserves a future. I’m his past.”

“You’re a fucking idiot. When you two talk do you _listen_ to each other?” She stares at him, eyes sharp and refusing to let him look away.

“Yeah. He’s asking me if he should ask out one of the nurses. Asking if I want to double date. Asking if I’m still hung up on Peggy. He’s got no fucking clue, and he doesn’t need one. He doesn’t need one more thing of _mine_ to deal with. One more fucking pathetic thing.”

“He doesn’t deserve to know? The chance to decide what he wants?”

“Know what?” Steve’s yelling. He knows he is, angry and hurt and frustrated. “It’s unrequited for a reason. He doesn’t _need_ to know. He’s the only person in my life who hasn’t pitied me every day he’s known me and I’d like to maybe have the dignity of that.”

“I haven’t.”

“You said as much this afternoon, so don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend. Jesus.” Every part of him aches inside and out. “I wish every fucking day they’d left me in the goddamned ice.”

She’s inches from him in the blink of an eye and the slap she gives him echoes through the room. “Don’t you…” Her voice breaks and Steve’s not sure if that or the slap shocks him more. “Don’t you _dare_ talk about yourself -- about my _friend_ that way. You think no one wants you here? You think no one gives a damn? You’re _wrong_.”

Steve’s eyes sting. “Nat.”

“He’s not the only one.”

He gets the impression that her hold on her emotions is as tenuous as his. “You slapped me.”

“You deserved it. You’re a stubborn ass.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“And a fucking idiot.”

“Been told that too.” Steve shrugs. “By the same person actually.”

“And yet you don’t change.”

“I don’t think I can.” He exhales heavily. “I’ve loved him a long, long time. Longer than you’ve been alive. And I know nothing is going to come of it. We’re working at being friends. I won't… I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re both idiots. And I bet you’re hungry.”

“A little.”

“A little?”

“A lot.”

“Knew it. Come on. They know you well enough around here that they saved you some food.”

**

He doesn’t see Bucky for a few days, but he’s still not surprised when he walks out of his room for his morning run to find him leaning against the opposite wall waiting for him. Steve looks at what Bucky’s wearing, then meets his eyes. “You hate running unless someone’s chasing you.”

“So you can run behind me.”

Steve lets out a soft bark of laughter. “I’m not going to take it easy on you.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to laugh. “When have you _ever_ been easy, Rogers?”

“I honestly have no clue what you mean.”

Bucky laughs again, head going back in amusement. Steve smiles and Bucky smiles back before jabbing Steve in the stomach and taking off running. “Catch me if you can.”

Bucky stays in front of him for a good four miles before his foot catches on a root. Steve, going too fast to stop, leaps over him. Bucky grabs Steve’s ankle mid-leap to bring him down as well. While Steve’s falling, Bucky scrambles to his feet and runs off again.

“Cheat!” Steve yells after him, getting up and putting on a burst of speed to catch up with Bucky. He launches himself at him and tackles him to the ground. Struggling against Steve’s grip and laughing, Bucky manages to get onto his back. Steve’s knees bracket Bucky’s thighs as he tries to grab hold of Bucky’s hands to pin him down. Bucky keeps evading him and gets his hands down to Steve's ribs and starts tickling him.

Steve shrieks in a way that he will deny even under oath, and Bucky cackles, managing to flip them over. Steve writhes beneath him, giggling and trying to shove Bucky off. 

“Serum didn’t cure you of this, huh?”

“You’re an…” Steve gasps, not able to stop laughing. “An asshole.”

“They didn’t ruin everything. Still know how to treat my best guy.” The words are loaded with something, and Steve catches Bucky’s hands, holding them by his waist. He swallows and Bucky smiles, soft and fond. “You shouldn’t yell at Natasha. Especially down the hall from someone with enhanced hearing.”

Steve’s face goes hot with humiliation and he shoves Bucky off of him, nearly tripping in his haste to get to his feet. “That’s not… You’re not…”

Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve wrist, the new metal arm just as incapacitating as the old. He gets to his feet and looks Steve in the eye. “Do you really think it matters to me whether you like men or women or both or neither? _You_ matter to me, you goon.” Steve keeps struggling to get away, needing to get away, but Bucky jerks him against his chest. “Steve. I don’t _care_.”

Steve manages to pull away from him, and he grabs the wrist Bucky had held, rubbing the red band from his fingers. “If you don’t care, why mention it?”

“Because you shouldn’t have to hide from me.”

Steve takes another step back and looks upward before closing his eyes. “Buck, I’ve been hiding from you since 1932.”

“Why? Back then, Steve? Why lie. We trusted each other with everything. Why wouldn’t you trust me with this?”

Steve exhales, hating that it shudders out of him. He’s waited for and dreaded this moment for most of his life. “Because I couldn't lose you. And I would have if you’d known.”

“It wouldn’t have. I don’t…”

“Because if I’d told you then -- even if you didn’t care who I fucked -- knowing that I wanted it -- _always_ wanted it to be you would have changed things.”

“But Peggy.”

“Always you doesn’t mean only you.” Steve shakes his head and stares at the ground. “Can I go now?”

“Steve.” Bucky reaches out but Steve jerks back farther, away from his touch. He’s trembling and doesn’t know how to stop.

“Are… Are we done?”

He can hear Bucky’s swallow. “It really depends on what you mean by that. We can be done with this conversation, but we’re not done with each other. With our friendship. The end of the line isn’t conditional. If me being a brainwashed assassin didn’t make it null and void, this sure as hell doesn’t.” Bucky takes Steve’s hand in his, squeezing it hard enough that Steve can’t pull away. “Don’t run away from me. We’ve already missed so damn much time.”

He wishes he could lie, but he’s not good at it, and can’t do it at all when it comes to Bucky. “Okay.”

“I need more than that. I know you too well. No weaseling through loopholes.”

“Okay.” Steve can’t look at him, instead he stares at Bucky’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “I won’t run.”

**

They fall into an easy pattern, doing their best not to pressure each other. But every morning when Steve comes back from his run, Bucky’s in his living room, telling Steve to take a shower so they can go have breakfast.

This time he’s there when Steve wakes up. He’s sprawled on Steve’s couch, one leg hanging over the back and the other pressed against the arm. Steve frowns at him as he walks into the living room. “Don’t you have your own room?”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Shouldn’t you live there?”

“I do, but your couch is more comfortable.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re identical.”

“Mm. Must be the delightfully welcoming company that comes part and parcel with your ugly mug.”

“Maybe you still don’t believe I’ll stick around.” Steve gives him a knowing look and Bucky just waves his foot at him. “Would I lie to you?”

“Yeah.” Bucky smiles widely. “If you thought you could get away with it.”

“I said I’d stay.” Bucky shifts and sits on the couch for a moment before squatting on one of the cushions. His eyebrow is raised and Steve can’t help his blush. “If that couch breaks, I’m making sure T’Challa knows it’s your fault.”

“Such a child.”

“Says the guy bouncing on my couch.”

“I’m a tortured soul. Allow me my small joys.”

Steve shoves Bucky’s shoulder, sending him tumbling to the floor. He sits up and looks at Steve, half-glaring and half-pouting. “You’re literally the worst.” He holds his hand out to Steve to help him up and Steve actually laughs. 

“You think I trust you?”

“I’m wounded. _Wounded_ Steve.” He wiggles his fingers. “C’mon. I’ll be good.”

“You’re a bald-faced fuckin’ liar, Barnes.”

“Nah.” Bucky rubs his chin with the hand he’s not holding out to Steve. “Got stubble.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve grabs Bucky’s hand and yanks him to his feet. Bucky overbalances them and he lands on top of Steve on the couch. He pokes Steve in the stomach, but his face is serious. “You couldn’t get rid of me by getting frozen for seventy years. We’re both different, but _we_ don’t change.”

“No?”

“You’re my best friend and my brother, and I do love you, Steve. I can’t be that for you, what you want, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. And if you can live with that, then no. Nothing’s going to change.” Bucky takes Steve's face in his hands and meets his eyes. “Never been anyone I’ve loved as much as you. I know it’s not how you want it, but I hope it’s enough.”

Steve meets Bucky’s gaze unflinchingly. “I can live with anything as long as you’re my friend.” He reaches up and taps Bucky on the nose. “Yeah. It’s enough.”

“Excellent. Now.” He leans back slightly and Steve puts his hands on Bucky’s hips to steady him. The low coil of want is always going to be there, but there are layers of continually building friendship keeping it in check. “I happen to know that Sam, Clint and his family, Scott and his family, and Wanda all landed about an hour ago, because they wanted to be here to celebrate some big lug’s birthday. I also happen to know there’s cake.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky’s smile is so bright it hurts. “Yeah.”

“Huh.” Steve stands up, dumpling Bucky to the floor. He walks toward the door backwards, his cheeks burning from his smile. “Maybe I’ll save you a piece.”


End file.
